Collections from the Rebels - Empire Strikes Back
by tatooineknights
Summary: A compilation of 500-word short thoughts and recollections of Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, from their beginnings on Hoth to the billowing clouds of Bespin, throughout the events of Empire Strikes Back.
1. Frozen Ruminations

The harsh ice stung to the commander's skin as he wrestled about in the snow, deliriously attempting to escape the hazardous conditions that surrounded him. Resist, he writhed in anguish as his muscles failed to react, spasming out of control. There was still much that needed to be done – so much left to say and so much left to act – and Luke Skywalker wasn't ready to give up just yet.

But there were only blinding flashes of white and empty expanses of black, depending on when he closed and opened his eyes. Everything seemed to be spinning around and his thoughts turned more to mush the longer he pressed on and tried to fight the delirium. It was so hard to concentrate, thoughts were swarming all around and struggling for domination – he had to focus. All his attention needed to go to one thought, one idea. He pushed and probed until one final phrase throbbed in his head: "Dagobah."

"Easy, kid," a voice spoke out of the light, an empty nothingness caressing his blistered and battered cheek. Luke jerked back in response as he felt something finger the wounds that ran across his face, yelping quietly as the phantom touch ran across the broken bone and cartilage of his nose, turning away. "I don't know what happened to you but I'm not gonna go anywhere," the phantom whispered, "you're gonna be fine."

"Dagobah," Luke whimpered, pushing against the figure and struggling to move.

"You can't move, kid, you're exhausted. Lie down, try to wind down."

The young man shook his head, only halfway parsing the words as his eyes glistened. "I can't, Dagobah," he relentlessly stated, holding his hands up above him and reaching out to an endless sea of white. "Ben – he told me to go there, to Dagobah," he whispered out defiantly. "Go to Yoda."

"Kid, you're not making any sense-" Luke flailed in frustration at the voice, throwing his arms and legs into the air, desperately trying to regain his composure and sanity as everything was sent spiraling downward. His breathing grew harsher and shallower with every second, hysteria soon possibly setting in. The voice paused as Luke struggled. "Oh, you know what," the voice suddenly changed tone and was softer, more delicate. "I must be mistaken. This is Dagobah."

"Dagobah," the man whispered in wonder, bringing down his limbs and finding composure in his breathing. His eyes rolled back in solace as he nestled himself into place, feeling a deep warmth cover and surround his being, as if pulled into the embrace of another. "Yoda."

"It's me, Han – you know what? Sure, yeah, I'm Yoda," said back to the young Jedi. "Whatever that is. Lie down here with me, kid, you've gotta relax and get some sleep if you want to get better. Try to do that for me, please," it pleaded but Luke had long since closed his eyes and sunken deep into slumber. "You've got a long road ahead of you after this, kid."


	2. Familiar Devotion

"Watch his face," Leia commanded as she peered at her friend on the surgical table. Two medics looked over to their officer and nodded in silence as they peeled the clothes off of young Skywalker, layer by layer, revealing pale pink and shriveled skin. As they stripped him of his jacket and undershirt, Luke shivered in response to the natural cold. Leia knelt down and gripped his hand tightly.

Han Solo and Chewbacca waited outside in the tank room, waiting for their friend to be submerged. The princess wanted to be with her friend the entire way, staying by his side the second Solo brought him back to the base, cradled in his arms. Letting out a small sigh, she examined him with curious and worried eyes. Something about this kid brought out a feeling in her – a loyalty and endearment to the youth that piqued her curiosity but also made her wonder; as if she were being called, led to his side. She believed in The Force, too, and wondered if that's what this sensation was – destiny.

There were several reports of ice monsters in the wastes of Hoth, swiping and pillaging through Tauntaun's throughout the night, though this was the first time an actual member of the Alliance was attacked. "I hope he'll be alright," Leia murmured as she delicately squeezed his resting hand.

"The attack was mainly superficial, Princess Leia. There's been damage to his nose but the cuts should heal right up the second he gets submerged in the bacta and only leave small scars," one of the medics replied to calm her worries, simultaneously pulling off Luke's boots and pants, leaving him fully bare to the cold. "The amount of time he spent in that freezing weather is the more pressing concern. Please, if you can, can you slightly hold up his upper body? We are going to apply the harness."

She nodded and wrapped her arm around his neck and shoulder, lightly tugging him up to her breast. His face twisted in response as she held him close, wrapping her arms around his chest. "I'll keep you warm," Leia whispered, lifting an arm to comb her fingers through his hair. Luke flinched in response as she crept closer to his hairline, her finger dangerously close to the open wound above his eye. "I'm sorry," she pleaded, bringing her arm back down and caressing him soothingly.

"It's time, Princess," one of the medics said as they pulled Skywalker off the table and carefully clipped the anchors of the bacta belt around his underwear, hoisting him up and suspending him in midair. He was lifted above and dangled over a wedge between the two rooms, slowly drifting away into the other. Luke looked like an angel in that moment – though, thinking back to the first time she saw him, basked in white, maybe he always was. As she followed him into the other room, Leia nodded and decided she would be his angel in turn too.


	3. Farmboy at Heart

There wasn't much time for recuperation before he'd be sent right back out on a new mission, but that was how Luke Skywalker would prefer it anyways. Lying around all day while the rest of the universe continued on, friends and acquaintances wavering from one place to another, troubled him immensely. He knew that it was necessary – what good would a young man like him do on the battlefield if he didn't take the time to recover? Still, it all felt like a waste, and the loneliness factor didn't help.

2-1B would check in on him every hour or two but it wasn't the same as being with his peers he befriended throughout these three years. For now, Luke was alone and had to manage his own innate restlessness privately. The young man stood from his cot and walked over to a nearby mirror, staring at himself intently for the first time after his rescue.

"You've changed a little bit," he frowned, fingering up new lines and creases stitched across his face. Though fresh and surrounded by puffy swelling, the wounds quickly turned to fading scars and didn't hurt from his touch. "I guess they weren't lying when they said war can change someone. Never thought it'd be physically though," he whispered, tapping lightly against his nose.

"I'll get used to it," he sighed and walked away from the mirror, flopping himself down on the cot and rubbing his face in response. Luke never cared much for outward beauty but he did occasionally wondered what people thought of him – was he handsome? Unattractive? Plain? No one ever really seemed to be interested in him on Tatooine; and, truthfully, there was only one or two that caught his eye in all the years he spent growing on that wasteland.

The young Jedi recalled how sweet his aunt Beru was to him as a kid, always calling him embarrassing phrases like "her dashing prince" and "her beautiful little boy." Luke smiled fondly as he closed his eyes and thought of the woman that raised him, how sensitive she was to his every need. Though there was no biological mother that he knew of, she was close enough: she was his mother.

Looking back, Luke felt ashamed and saddened at the distance that developed between him and his uncle those last few years on Tatooine. There were times when he resented the man – times where he wished he could have just fled and never shown his face again. But now, as a man, he knew just how much his uncle protected and devoted himself to him. All he wanted to do was protect Luke from a life of pain, of constant adventure, providing him a home he could always feel safe at. The youth shook his head and hung it low – wishing to go back, tell the two of them how grateful he was and how much he loved them, to hug them one last time.

"I love you, Uncle Owen, Aunt Beru."


	4. Wondering

"I hope Luke is alright," she stated as she looked out into the vast expanse of space, hoping that wherever he was, he could look to the stars and know she was gazing right back at him. They were separate from rebel channels and drifted away from any kind of intel – the last communication they received being that Skywalker had changed course and broken off. Several days had passed since Hoth.

"The kid is fine," Han huffed, fidgeting with the console and trying to not show his own worry – though Leia could see through his shield quite plainly. They both cared for the kid as he were there brother, becoming their own little family as the years passed. "He had the guts to rescue you and blow up that Death Star and lived to tell the tale. Not to mention getting attacked by that creature, living through an ice storm, that kid is basically indestructible. I don't think we have anything to worry about."

"Maybe," she smiled lightly as she looked to Han. "But we were also there with him. I don't know, maybe I am just being paranoid. We are probably in a situation far worse than him. Who knows how much longer we can just drift like this. Speaking of which, how much longer until we arrive at that Lando system?"

The smuggler exhaled and put his hand to his face. "For the last time, your worshipfulness, Lando isn't the system. He's a friend of mine. He runs this place called Cloud City. Someone that I've known for a long time and happen to have a good relationship with," he replied. Leia raised her eyebrow in suspicion, to which Han replied with an earnest grin.

Growls escaped from the hallway behind them with which Han stood up and pointed his finger that direction, "Now there is no way he is still holding that against me. I won fair and square. He has no reason to still be upset about that. We're friends, we go way back." Chewbacca growled sarcastically and left the two of them alone. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I guess it isn't like we have any other choice," Leia responded, crossing her legs and folding her arms as she continued to look out into space. They were out of options and, as much as she didn't want to rely on an outsider and one that Han was iffy on to begin with, she knew there was little else left.

"Glad to see you're looking on the bright side, your worship-"

"Don't call me that," she twisted, spinning around in her chair to stare at the man. Underneath that frown, there was a slight hint of a smile though she didn't dare allow Han to see her delight. He looked at her and nodded apologetically, raising his hands in the air. "It's Leia," she teased at him.

"My apologies, Leia," the smuggler said right as she turned around – a grin forming on her face.


	5. Training of the Jedi

"One with the Force, you must be."

Luke sat still on a stump outside Yoda's hut, his eyes closed, his body dripping with sweat and heaving from exhaustion. "Feel around you," his master instructed. The young man sensed around and located the objects he knew were nearby, feeling an extension of his hand reach out and grip a small boulder a few meters away from him. "Touch, lift," he advised.

"Reach out past what you know, you must," the green creature commanded. "So little you know, compared to the unknown. Learn, search, find," Luke tightened his eyelids as he investigated the shadows of the Force – peering past what he memorized around the hut. He felt his body shake as his mind escaped his safe zone, his head throbbing as blood rushed straight to his skull.

"I can't," Luke gulped, his eyes opening suddenly, bloodshot and in a daze. The fledgling Jedi had exerted his whole physical self – he couldn't go on any longer. "I'm sorry, Master Yoda, I'm exhausted. All of this is so – so new to me. It's so much to take in at once."

"Indeed, it is," Yoda sighed as he grabbed his stick and began walking to his hut. "But to know this much, you must, if you are to become a Jedi. This exhaustion you feel, it is irrelevant. There is only the Force. So much more than you. Move past one's self, your biggest obstacle, it is."

He shook his head and rolled off the stump, lying flat on the cold dampness of the earth. "I know," he said as he looked up at the trees overhead. "I know what you are saying, Master. I'm doing the best I can, I'll keep working on it, I promise," Luke said as he closed his eyes, again reaching out, only towards the sky this time.

"No purpose to practice unless you do," the master sighed as he walked inside.

Luke bit down on his lip as his eyelids tightened, holding his hands out above him, reaching forth into the morning sky and peeking out into the world above the one he knew. "I won't fail you this time," he mumbled aloud, stretching forth and extending himself out above the trees. He could see the many creatures that roamed the trees of Dagobah, their sounds filling his ears. With one more pull, the upper shadows faded and he found himself rising above – staring down upon the planet. He could see the smoke rising from Yoda's hut, several forests that claimed the world, and the large swamps that devoured them..

"The Force, you feel. A great thing, it is, though a dangerous corruption lurks within. Can never be to careful with it, you must. A simple world, this is, more concentration and attunement necessary for bigger worlds. There is little life here – feel them, do you? Hear them? Hear me, my own thoughts, are you?"

The Jedi opened his eyes and nodded – only to find no one around him.


	6. Becoming One with the Present

"You're beautiful," Han Solo trembled as he pulled away from her lips, looking deep into Leia's eyes. She looked back for only a second, taking in the warmth of his eyes as the two were locked into the blissful intimacy of love. Smiling back at the scoundrel, Leia lifted her chin up and brought her lips against his, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him back down to her level.

"You're not so bad yourself," she squeaked as she gasped for air, "flyboy."

There was much that Leia Organa accomplished in her short life – she was born a princess but built her career into becoming a stunning diplomat, using her skills and connections to be as educated as one on Alderaan could possibly be. She became the pride of the family, eventually becoming known to many in the Senate as her father's daughter, and she wore that title proudly: how she loved her father and mother.

She didn't have much experience with love: sure, there were flings here and there but nothing that ever seemed to last, nothing that ever made it to that final step. None that she ever trusted, at least. Becoming romantically involved in trying times as these proved difficult – forming tricky alliances that could so easily be broken. There were little nice men within the Empire; even fewer, men she could actually trust.

How she ended up here, merged together with this man, the scoundrel, shocked her – though wasn't entirely that surprising. Solo claimed to be rough around the edges with his sordid past but he held his friends to the highest regard, coming to both their rescue numerous times. His snark even matched her own wit, as the two constantly went toe to toe in passive aggressive matches, each trying to outdo the other. How he frustrated her…

But that frustration allowed her to be able to stay calm and at ease – which she needed after how much her world changed these past few years. The princess wouldn't ever open to admit to it but his joking and bumbling demeanor allowed her to relax with all the looming tension; he gave her a window to be the girl she'd suppressed for so long in order to be the leading woman that her people and planet needed. When she was with him, alone on the ship, it was like there was only the two of them.

Leia pulled herself away from him, sighing loudly as she tousled his unkempt hair, looking to the man with a generous smile on her face. "I told you I'm a nice man," he joked quietly as he laid his head on her lap. She laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pecking him lightly on the forehead as he slowly dazed off into slumber. That fierce and adventurous man looked so innocent and content in her lap – she wondered if she looked so different herself.

"The nicest," she nuzzled, slinking backwards and joining him in rest.


	7. Becoming One with the Past

The day had long since passed and night, mixed with billowing fog, swept over the marshes of Dagobah. Training to be a Jedi Knight was grueling, exhausting – much different from the carefree practicing he did with Ben and the solid work he did himself. His new master slept soundly in his hut while Artoo deactivated himself and rest right outside. He was alone now – though, truth be told, this time he wanted to be alone. Luke Skywalker sat shirtless on a stump in the middle of the woods, gaping out at the stars and moons above. This world was so different than the ones he had visited before in the past; though he always managed to find solace in the one sky every world shared.

Luke stood and stripped himself of his pants, throwing them into a makeshift hobble that he used to clean his clothes while he stayed on Dagobah. "Not like I'll need these either," he muttered, sliding down the white briefs he wore underneath before tossing them in with his clothes, baring himself against the humid warmth of the swamp: it wasn't as if anyone could see him. He made his way to the spring just past Yoda's hut, where he bathed.

He dipped his feet into the water and hissed, as his toes burned against the heat. The young Jedi waited a second and exhaled; slowly placing his feet into the water and lowering himself deep inside until the water was right at his chest. "This heat reminds me of home," Luke said to himself quietly, ironically knowing how dry Tatooine itself could get. "I've come a long way. But I know you are all with me, somewhere in the sky. Uncle Owen, Aunt Beru, Ben, Biggs.."

The youth frowned as he remembered Biggs – his only best friend all throughout childhood. He remembered how shocked he was when he found him on Yavin, the excitement the two men had in their reunion. There was so many stories they were going to share; so little time granted. "Biggs," whispered Luke sadly as he remembered their lives together on Tatooine. He was the runt of the pack – Wormie – but Biggs was the one that took him and protected him. From bullies, to monsters, to their own childish schemes. He wanted to repay him, somehow, but he knew that chance would never come.

Biggs was already almost fully grown at sixteen when Luke had only just barely started puberty; it was so incredibly frustrating for a young man of his age. Luke remembered that face, that mustache that could grow back in one week compared to the years of the light whiskers that only barely grew on his own face. It reminded him of how jealous he got when other people were around him. He thought of that face – and he felt his own flesh react. Luke closed his eyes and grabbed himself with his left hand, reminiscing of days that passed and the future he wished he shared.


	8. Captured

Han Solo laid completely still in Leia's lap as he slept, unaware and unconscious from the torture he endured. She combed her fingers through his hair and smiled sadly at the man. It broke her heart as she remembered the melancholy on his face, "they didn't even ask any questions." The cries of pain and anguish that escaped his lips previously stung to her very own, a cold chill running down her spine, as if she were sharing the same pain he endured.

For now, the man was safe in her arms. This was the longest they had left them alone – draped in the dark, faced with cruel treatment and painful torture, caged like animals. Leia wondered if this was the end for them – were they to be given a public execution? Relentlessly tortured until they became puppets of the state? It bothered her that Darth Vader was so silent now that he captured them. She remembered how militant that brute was, how obsessive he was over her capture. Suddenly, it was as if she never existed. All the attention was on hurting Han.

Even more, it worried her now that she learned they were the bait to draw in their friend. "This doesn't make any sense," Leia whispered as she dabbed at a wound on Han's scalp. None of this was adding together – what was so special about Luke that the two of them became pawns? He was a Jedi, sure, but big enough of a deal to Vader to make a plot like this?

"Luke," Han struggled as his eyes opened. "They're after him. They don't want us, they want him. We can't let them get to him. I – I can't imagine what that Vader would do to him. It isn't safe. Not for us or for him. Leia," he pleaded, kissing her hand and burying his face against it. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have brought you here, I didn't know-"

"Shh," Leia hushed as she held him up in her arms, squeezing him tightly in an embrace. "This isn't your fault. It's none of our fault; we didn't have any choice in this. We are survivors. We'll make it through this, like we always do. As long as we have each other," she said, holding up his head by the chin.

"Yeah," he struggled out, as they pecked each other on the lips. They both felt secure in the arms of the other, reunited as one, until Han pulled back. "Aside from the getting captured and tortured part, the past few weeks I've spent with you were some of the best times I've ever had."

Leia smiled as Han's energy had been spent, laying his head right back down on her lap. "Right back at you," she teased, though she couldn't help but sense everything was going terribly wrong. They were in grave danger and so, soon, would be their friend. She continued to hold him. That, for the time being, was assuring enough.


	9. His Father's Lightsaber

In between his own bloodcurdling cry of agony and the scarlet mixture of ash and bone that collected along his sleeve, Luke Skywalker saw the glimpse of a cyan beam through tearful eyes. Time seemed to stop in that instant, nothing but his wavering body reacting to seeing his weapon twist and fall into the depths below. The rational instincts in his head shot off one by one – use the Force, call for his weapon, don't allow himself to be destroyed.

But the impulse of muscles and flesh reacted before he could consciously act, his free hand jammed tightly against his aching stump instead of calling for the lightsaber. He collapsed in defeat as he nursed his arm, squinting down into the bowels of Cloud City and noting the spinning blade he once weld and the hand that claimed it.

"Your father's lightsaber," Luke remembered a man once said to him as he stared down in horror, his stomach churning and tightening into knots. Holding that blade in his hands gave real worth to him; as if filling a void that had been quieted over his lifetime. When that beam of light shot out of the weapon for the first time, the buzzing hum of the blade filling the air, the young man felt whole. No longer was he the target of jokes amongst his friends, the Wormie of Tatooine; he was something else, something greater, an inheritor of the Skywalker destiny.

For three years, that blade hung at his waist, visible for all to see. Though he was never known for his excessive hubris, there was a certain pride he wore along with the weapon. Luke wanted people to know the journey that he had made, how the farmboy of Tatooine became the hero of the Rebel Alliance, and found comfort in that. Maybe, just maybe, his own crossing would inspire young desolate children of all homes and planets.

But even more, it was a symbol of his lineage. The man never knew his father, Anakin Skywalker, and most of his remaining family kept quiet about the surrounding details. But at least he had details to go on about his father – never a mention had been made about his true mother. When Ben Kenobi gave him that lightsaber, he felt like he connected to his true parents for the first time, finding his own identity as a man.

That manhood was since stolen with the pillaging scarlet of Vader's blade, tumbled far below where Luke's eyes could no longer fathom, leaving him defenseless and without purpose. No longer was he the confident hero or the elusive mystic that friends adored and enemies feared – he was a boy again. An aching and grief-stricken boy without his father, beaten into submission.

"There is no escape," he barely heard through ringing ears, "don't make me destroy you."

Throwing his head up in defiance, Luke stared at the face of his opponent – and readied himself for his first choice as his own man.


	10. The Fugitive Remembers

The Millennium Falcon zoomed out of sight as blaster fire shot all around the ship, stormtroopers swarming the entire dock behind them. The white menaces grew smaller with every second, turning from harsh figures into little specks as the distance grew between them. Though the Princess wouldn't acknowledge this fact, she took delight in firing at them in her rage.

Everything was quiet now – no, there were still sounds, still voices speaking and electronic beeping sonically pulsing, but they couldn't pierce her ear. Leia Organa was rattled. Lost, perhaps, in those few seconds now that she had finally escaped yet again.

"He's gone," whispered Leia under her breath as she fell into her seat in the cockpit, numb with shock. That man whose passion slowly became entangled with her own, the only physical man able to bring out the raging tempest within, whose lips she parted with so easily was gone – a slab of metal; doomed to be nothing more than a sadistic treasure for a deranged crime lord. There was still so much she needed to say to him: "I love you" was just the beginning and not the end. A whole future was in store for the two of them, at least in her mind, and now the reality was beginning to set in.

It wasn't long ago that they became one in isolation – huddled masses clinging to another in the dark, sensing and probing for their most intimate of desires. The princess sank further in her seat as she lifted her hand and ran it across her cheek, remembering exactly as Han Solo once did. Her fingernails dug underneath the skin and scratched lightly downward, wanting to feel his touch buried underneath.

"He's not gone yet," spoke a voice behind her. Leia turned and stared at Han's friend, a man she barely knew and struggled to trust, and could only look at him in sadness. She hoped he was right. "I'm pretty sure I know exactly where that bounty hunter is taking him," implored Lando, maneuvering around the cockpit and acting as Chewbacca's assistant. "If we can get the hell out of this mess."

The city loomed once again in the window as the Falcon twisted around. How that very sight made Leia's stomach turn to knots – she hated that place. In her mind, it was a white-painted fortress covering the dark shadows of the Empire. Suspended above an empty planet, they pretended it to be some bastion of neutrality. However, she knew better from the start – there was no neutrality in these trying times of desperation and war; and now, they took _him_ from her – The Empire, Vader.

"He's not gone yet," she repeated softly as she stared back at the city, peering forth at the floating paradise as it slowly began to fade away with the clouds. The blood within began to circulate as distance drew between the two of them, allowing her to let a loud sigh of relief.

"We can still save him."


	11. A Prayer for the Princess

"Ben," a semi-delirious Luke Skywalker moaned, thighs wrapped tightly around the lone solid wire hanging beneath the city and above an endless bastion of clouds and gas. The wind thrashed against Skywalker as he sat still around the pipe, holding on desperately. "Ben, please," he begged as his eyelids fluttered against his own shock, his face frozen still by swollen bruises and crusted blood.

His old master didn't reply – as, deep down, Luke knew he wouldn't.

The young Jedi shivered as the wind wracked him backward, a second close to letting go from his precarious hold. Though the opening above had closed, it was still an opening and the only solid chance of escape he had left. Skywalker heaved in and out as he looked at the crease in the building. "Don't look down," he repeated to himself as he began to reach up with his free hand, though the dull throbbing of his aching body begged to succumb to fate and simply let go. "You can do this, Luke."

Trust the Force – he closed his eyes and tried to remember the wise teachings of his former masters, imploring once again for their insight. "There is no emotion, there is peace," recited Luke as he slowly began to pull himself up from his safe position, shimmying his way up the pipe. The youth reaches up and grabs a hold of a panel with his free hand – almost there, almost. "You can do this," he repeated. Absentmindedly, he raises his right arm and stares blankly at where his wrist.

 _You are beaten_ , he remembered suddenly as the stump began to flare. He reflexively brought his arm and tucked it around the pole, ever so aware of his limitations. _You are not a Jedi_ , a voice within his head taunts at him as the distance became magnified, preying on his fear, rattling his concentration. _You cannot control it_ – another voice came from within. He reaches still but his body begins to sink.

 _I can't –_

Luke's grip contracts as his upper body swings downward, colliding harshly against the pole. His eyes are closed but his head is swinging and spinning in circles, falling in place next to the current of the wind. "Ben," he implores as his eyes awake. He is upside down, barely hanging on by the strength of his legs. The young Jedi knows there is little time left – he needed help. Someone, anyone. He closed his eyes and concentrated, his free hand clenching into a fist: he thought of the only people capable of rescuing him and called whomever first came in his head.

"Leia," he whispered, the spirit taking control over the collapse of his body. He finds himself completely still and serene as the wind dissipated into nothingness, clamoring and overbearing thoughts merging together into one desperate and final act. "Hear me," Luke begged, "Leia." His eyes opened wide as he said her name that final time – vaguely assured that the message had reached her.

Just hold on.


	12. A Friend Rescued

"Leia," spat out the dried and heaving voice of Luke Skywalker as he wrapped his left arm around her hand, meeting her own arms wrapped tightly around his back. The boy quivered at her touch – she noted the gashes across his face and the light soaking of blood in his fatigues. His face was pale and his eyes sunk deep into his skull – this was a man on the brink of death; another friend, almost stolen from her. He kept his right arm tucked under the blanket, which she thought was strange, as she led him down the familiar narrow halls of the Falcon.

The man who once stood slightly taller than her was hobbling and weak, his left arm draped against her back as she walked him to one of the rooms. There was a deathly silence and stillness to the youth. "Lie down here, Luke," she motioned as she folded out a makeshift cot. The young Jedi complied and laid still on the bed, staring at her quietly. She grabbed a washcloth and dabbed it in some water, lightly dressing the wounds on his skin. "You'll be back on your feet sooner than you think," she smiled as she began to pull back the blanket – and saw his wounded arm, staring in horror where his wrist once was.

"Oh, Luke," Leia whimpered, collapsing onto her knees and squeezing his free hand firmly.

"I'll be alright," Luke smiled weakly, raising his arm in the air dumbly, holding the stump up for the two of them to stare at . "I can barely feel it anymore, it didn't even bleed. Other injuries though… are harder to bear," he replied as he brought his arm back down, staring blankly at the ceiling for a long while before looking her way again. She pained a smile his way as she pushed back his hair. "I'm so happy to see you."

"Me too."

Leia stood from her spot and rushed her way over to the storage unit, looking for the emergency bacta sleeve, and returned to her friend. "This might hurt for a minute but you'll feel better afterword," she promised as she hesitantly jerked the end of a tube into his wound. Luke cried out for a second as she fitted the sleeve around his arm, wrapping it tightly and firm. "Good as new," she hushed.

Her friend smiled back before closing his eyes to rest. The princess sat by his side for another minute, squeezing his hand gingerly and feeling the strength of his pulse increase with every couple of seconds. "I'm not going to lose you too," whispered Leia, so quietly that he couldn't hear. The pain of losing Han Solo still wreaked havoc within – as did her hatred for Darth Vader. Looking at her innocent friend, battered and tired, reminded her of both of those things. They didn't deserve this – she didn't deserve this either. Someone, somewhere, would pay for the pain they caused the friends of Leia Organa.


	13. Father Speaks

"Luke."

Without a moment of hesitation, Luke looked up to the ceiling and saw past it to the stars and heavens, seeing the face of a man he revered morphed to a figure he feared. "Father," he cried out in desperation, only realizing the words he uttered and the brevity of his acknowledgement seconds later. "Father," he repeated silently, more pensive this time, rubbing his fingers against the blanket in curious anticipation of the response.

"Son," the voice implored, "come with me."

Skywalker wondered now, as the stars and heavens began to crash down and looming figure faded, why his fear had suddenly left him. Darth Vader was the menace that he had prepared for all these years – the revenge against him being his only drive aside from following in his own father's footsteps. Now that they were one in the same, he wasn't sure where to go or what to do.

There wasn't any darkness in his words – Luke sensed this. All he got from that voice was a father yearning for his flesh and blood to return, not the tantalizing figure before that promised lofty and ambitious plans of a wondrous coup d'état against the Emperor; just a father looking for his son, like he had been searching himself all these years. He wouldn't speak it yet but a part of him wanted to meet Vader again – to learn the full truth of what had happened – to know how the man became the machine.

"Ben," Luke whimpered as he sunk back against the cot. "Why didn't you tell me," though he was speaking just as much to himself as he was to his mentor. The ship thrashed suddenly and violently as he finally fell back to slumber, opening his eyes and pushing forward, standing up and making his way to the cockpit. He wrapped his arms together as he emerged to the shock of his friends.

He peered out the pilot window and stared intently at the ship ahead of them. "It's Vader," Luke chillingly announced as Leia and Lando turned to him in silent horror. "It's my father," he wanted to say aloud so badly. The truth wrecked inside his brain and turned it inside out, making him aware of his own position as the son of the enemy of his friends. He wanted them to know, yet he feared their knowledge.

"It is your destiny," the voice pierced back as his vision blasted through the window and brought him face to face to the Dark Lord of the Sith – his father. Luke slumped down to a seat as he stared back, unable to speak, unwilling to stop looking at the face of the man that bore him. "My son," the figure stated with pride. The two men took the other in within the Force, if only for a moment, and marveled at the sight - only to be pulled apart from the blast of hyperdrive and the shriek of space, separate from the other once more.


	14. The Wondering Princess

"I'm here, Luke."

Luke lay still in the medical bay, unconscious from surgery, as the droids tirelessly worked to reattach a new cybernetic prosthetic to his right arm. Though he only lost his hand, further amputation was needed to piece him back together. It broke her heart as she brushed cold sweat off his brow, holding his left hand tight. She knew it was likely he wouldn't remember – but the touch of another human, the contact of physical skin against her own, reassured her that she was still living.

The princess turned her head and looked out to vast window before her, the reflection of stars illuminating her pale skin. There was so much out there to discover – so much good, even among the bad. Somewhere nestled within those lost stars, Han Solo was waiting for her, and she was going to find him and bring him home. "I love you," she whispered absentmindedly, hoping he'd hear her plea.

"I love you too," croaked back a dazed voice to her side. Leia tilted her head and looked to her friend as a weak smile swept his lips, his eyes creasing open only to roll back into delirium. Their hands tightened together in embrace as Leia bit down on her own lip, guilt wrecking the remnants of her soul. The love she discovered she had for Han Solo was going to hurt her friend – and that was the last thing she wanted. The man was already in so much pain, she didn't need to add.

She stayed silent as she soothingly tossed her fingers through his shaggy hair, combing him and bringing him back to slumber. "This is all the Empire's fault," she hissed under her breath, making sure to take a look at where his flesh would soon meet prosthetic. "Vader's fault." The princess wondered just how much his physical agony compared to her emotional destitution, thinking of how she'd trade that pain in an instant if it would have kept the two men she loved safe.

"You're a survivor, Luke," she whispered as the droids were finishing up the attachment procedure. "Just like me. We've all been through so much. You won't remember of any of what I'm saying but those scars will stay with you - you can't escape them – they are a part of you now. But those scars," hushed Leia as her eyes began to well up with tears, "they remind you that you are human. They tell your journey and your struggles and the story of your survival."

There were numerous scars on Leia Organa – the light physical ones from surviving torture at the hands of Darth Vader, the emotional scars of losing an entire world of her own people, the spiritual scar of finding love only to have it ripped apart weeks after. There was much she had endured in these three years – but she still stood strong, her head held high, gaping at lost stars in search of a home.

She would survive.


	15. A Hero Recovers

"Please stay still, Master Skywalker, as we finish connecting the wires to your nerves."

There was little else he could do, as his arm was strapped down to the surgical table, cautiously trying to peer at the two droids melding synthetic flesh with his own. It was bizarre and unnatural – unlike anything he had ever seen before. Most within the Rebellion opted for the cheaper prosthesis or chose to wear their scars with pride, wanting their friends and enemies to see what they endured.

But Luke Skywalker was more to the Rebel Alliance than the average soldier – he was their morale boost in a decade, the destruction of the Death Star not only saving billions but endearing the Rebellion cause to people throughout the galaxy. It wouldn't do for them to know just how fragile a hero can be; Mon Mothma ensured that enough credits would be transferred their way to a private wing in the frigate, where he could get through the necessary surgical procedures in privacy and the therapy to recover.

It was an uncomfortable burden that seemed frivolous to the youth, wasteful. Or maybe that was just a reflection on what he was revealed to be – the successor of the villain to their cause, the black-garbed monster known throughout the galaxy as Darth Vader. And here he was, slowly becoming a machine like him, driven thanks to his own pride. He wouldn't tell them, nor Leia, but he wished they would have left it alone.

"Ow!" Luke cried out as a needle stabbed into the middle of the prosthesis, his eyes darting down as it flinched and flexed as if it were his own flesh. Fingers wagged around cautiously as he closed the cybernetic into a fist, noting the perfect nails in contrast to the worn down and bitten nails of his left hand. It was a perfect fit with no imperfections but it would never replace the real thing.

The droid closed the flap of his prosthesis and sealed it shut with a fine laser that only barely tickled Luke. He turned his head and saw Leia stare out into the stars. They unstrapped his arm and he flexed and tightened it in response, sitting up and making his way to his friend. The princess had been quiet ever since he awoke but he had the strangest feeling that she had been by his side all this time; her eyes were sunken in and red, her cheeks puff and raw. He wanted to comfort her – but he knew he couldn't comfort her in the way that she needed to. Only Han Solo could do that. Sorrow hung throughout the room – but there was also hope. They missed their friend. But they knew where he was at and were making their way to save him from Boba Fett – their shared pain was only a temporary setback.

He put his new arm around her and smiled, which she mirrored back, as the two looked on to the horizon.


End file.
